Return to wildwood

The gates of Terrell State Hospital loomed in the headlights like the jaws of some massive, ancient beast.

The boys sat in the truck for a moment, none of them moving.

Ben flexed his fingers around the steering wheel.

“Once we’re inside,” he said, “we stick together. No running off. No being a hero.”

Mark and Dylan nodded.

Ben popped the glove compartment and pulled out a flashlight and a rusted baseball bat.

It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

Dylan found an old tire iron under his seat and clutched it like a lifeline.

“Should’ve brought holy water and a priest too,” Dylan muttered.

They climbed out of the truck and made their way toward the gate.

It groaned open slowly under Ben’s push, like it had been waiting for them.

The air inside the hospital grounds felt thicker — heavier — like stepping underwater.

Their footsteps echoed unnaturally loud on the cracked pavement as they crossed onto the grounds.

The camp itself lay hidden beyond the trees, dark and silent.

But something was waiting for them.

Ben could feel it.

They all could.

As they moved deeper into the woods, the familiar landmarks loomed in the dark:

The broken swingset…

The crumbling firepit…

The edge of the lake, black and still like glass.

Ben shivered, his eyes darting around.

That’s when he saw it.

Near the lake’s edge — a small figure standing perfectly still.

A little girl in an old-fashioned white dress.

Nadia.

She was waiting for them.

But this time, she wasn’t alone.

Behind her, shadows shifted.

Other figures stepped forward — dozens of them.

Men. Women. Children.

All wearing the same hospital wristbands.

All with hollow, empty eyes.

Mark clutched Ben’s arm, his voice shaking.

“We’re not alone.”

Ben tightened his grip on the bat.

“Stay calm. Don’t run.”

Nadia raised one small hand, pointing back toward the woods.

Slowly, shakily, the boys turned to look.

And that’s when they saw him.

Willy.

Not just Willy — something worse.

He looked bigger now, his skin stretched too tight, his eyes black holes in his face.

He was coming for them.

And he wasn’t smiling anymore.

Willy let out a roar that shattered the stillness of the night.

The dead things behind Nadia stirred, stepping forward.

Ben didn’t hesitate.

He swung the bat at the first shadow that lunged at them — the wood cracking against something solid — but the figure barely flinched.

“Back to the lake!” Ben shouted.

Mark and Dylan fell in beside him, swinging their weapons wildly at the things that moved too fast and too close.

The boys fought with everything they had, but it was like fighting smoke — every time they hit one down, another took its place.

Willy was getting closer. His smile was gone, replaced by something far worse: pure, gleeful hunger.

Dylan caught a blow across the shoulder and stumbled.

Ben grabbed him, yanking him upright.

“We have to move! Now!”

Nadia appeared beside them, almost glowing in the dark.

“Follow me!” she cried. Her voice was sharp, urgent.

Without questioning it, the boys ran.

Nadia darted ahead, weaving through the trees like she knew every twist and turn.

Behind them, the shadows gave chase — whispering, giggling, calling the boys’ names in voices that were too sweet, too wrong.

Ben’s lungs burned. His leg ached. But he didn’t dare slow down.

The forest seemed endless — the same trees, the same crooked paths — until finally, Nadia led them into a clearing.

In the center of it was something they’d never seen before.

An old, crumbling stone well.

Covered in rusted chains.

Carved with strange symbols.

Nadia turned to face them, her eyes serious.

“This is where it began.”

The boys looked around, breathing hard.

“What do you mean?” Ben demanded.

Nadia knelt beside the well and placed a small hand against the stones.

“Before it was a hospital, before it was even a camp… WildWood was a place for them. The broken ones.

People said they could be cured here, but all they did was lock them up, chain them, hurt them…

And some things… some spirits… they don’t forget pain.”

Behind them, Willy howled with rage.

He was close.

Too close.

Mark grabbed Nadia’s arm.

“How do we stop him? How do we stop all of this?”

Nadia’s face twisted with sadness.

“You can’t stop it. But you can leave it behind. If you make it to the other side of the woods before sunrise… you’ll be free.”

Ben stared at her.

“And if we don’t?”

She looked over his shoulder at the advancing shadows.

“Then you’ll stay here. Forever.”

Ben made a decision.

“We’re leaving.”

The boys took off again, sprinting toward the faintest hint of light on the horizon.

Branches slashed their faces, roots tried to trip them, the very forest itself seemed to fight them.

Willy screamed behind them, a raw, furious sound that shook the trees.

But they didn’t look back.

They burst through the last line of trees just as the first rays of dawn touched the ground.

As soon as their feet hit the asphalt of the old service road, the air shifted.

The heaviness lifted.

The woods behind them fell silent.

The boys collapsed on the ground, gasping for breath.

They were out.

They had survived.

But as Ben sat up, he caught one last glimpse of the treeline.

Nadia stood there, watching them.

She smiled sadly, lifted her hand in a wave…

…and then faded into mist.

The boys got into the truck and drove until WildWood was nothing but a memory in the rearview mirror.

But none of them ever spoke of that night again.

Not because they forgot —

But because sometimes, late at night, they still heard Willy’s laughter in the wind…

And sometimes, in the mirrors, they caught glimpses of the woods creeping closer…

Just waiting.